


Moving  On

by MadamBiscuit



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamBiscuit/pseuds/MadamBiscuit
Summary: Gowasu sorts through Zamasu's few belongings to prepare for his next apprentice . . . and to help himself let go of the nagging memories of Zamasu.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Moving  On

“The flavor is strange again.” Gowasu stared down into his cup of tea, frowning at the murky surface.

Ever since Zamasu had been erased, he’d gone back to brewing his own tea just as he had for many millennia. But . . . for some reason, he couldn’t get it right. No, he knew the reason. His heart was still muddled with regret and uncertainty. It had occupied his thoughts nearly to the point of obsession some days. What good did it do to dwell on the matter? Zamasu was gone and would never return and that was the end of that.

. . . but he couldn’t let it go, no matter how much he told himself he should.

Sighing with defeat, Gowasu stood from his seat to give up on tea for the afternoon. He needed to find some way to put these thoughts to rest. He needed to clear his mind and his heart of these regrets and questions and worries so that he may finally be ready to select yet another apprentice.

_But what if your teachings are the reason Zamasu turned out that way?_

He furrowed his brows and shook his head, “Such thoughts are dangerous. Get it together!” He scolded himself before tilting his head back to look up at the large tree under which he stood. He and Zamasu had been out here many times, drinking tea or chatting about this and that.

_“Godtube? Master Gowasu, surely you aren’t serious.” Zamasu’s brows turned upward with concern as he appeared to nearly drop his cup._

_“I’m quite serious! You don’t think I could make it as a Godtube star?” Gowasu grinned and laughed a hearty laugh. “You might be one of my biggest fans someday!”_

_“A-ah . . . I certainly respect your knowledge and your status, but . . .” Zamasu looked thoughtful for a moment, “I am sure many would be entertained by your videos, Master Gowasu.” He smiled, quite uncertain with how to deal with such an ambition from his master._

Smiling, laughing, carrying on . . . at some point those conversations became fewer and further between and were instead replaced by much more serious subjects. When had that carefree atmosphere changed? He shrugged off those memories for now. “Inner peace is important . . . but I must also learn to recognize inner turmoil and how dangerous it can be if left unchecked.”

Gowasu took his teacup and teapot and carried both back inside to be emptied and put away. There was no sense in drinking tea that was unpleasant and he knew that no matter how many times he made it, he would not be able to do it well.

“It has been quite some time since I’ve struggled internally like this. I thought I had seen and learned all that there was . . . and I thought my only duty remaining was to pass down that same knowledge and experience.” He slowly traveled down a hall, stopping in front of one of the doors, “But you took me quite by surprise, Zamasu.” Gowasu placed his hand on the door as the words faded from his lips. There was a long pause, a moment where he simply stared at his own hand as he contemplated what he ought to do.

Zamasu’s room. He’d not once entered it, not even after Zamasu had been erased. He couldn’t do it. Even outside of the sentimentality of going through Zamasu’s things, he was worried about what he might find. Would he see evidence of his downfall? Was it even more obvious than he initially thought? How deep did his anger and his hatred run?

“No. I need to do this. If nothing else, then I must prepare this room for the next apprentice.” Even saying the words ‘next apprentice’ struck a chord in his heart. “None of them will be as qualified as you were, Zamasu.” 

Pursing his lips, Gowasu grabbed the knob and turned it, pushing the door open and immediately switching on a light.

The room was very neat and orderly. The bed was made and the sheets looked fresh. There was no garbage or clutter. It was exactly what one would expect from someone like Zamasu. It was mostly devoid of personal items aside from a small chest beneath the window and a book of some sort atop the desk in the corner. Zamasu never did seem to be into any sort of hobby. He never really even watched television or used the computer. Well, that is . . . until he took an interest in the tournament between universe six and universe seven. He’d even gone so far as to look up more footage of it later.

_That should have been an obvious red flag._

Zamasu had no hobbies and no particular interests, as far as Gowasu knew. He was simply . . . obsessed with mortal life and justice. That strong sense of justice had been one of the many reasons why Gowasu had selected him to become his apprentice.

“Too much of a good thing can become something evil.” Gowasu murmured the words to himself as he slowly made his way to the desk. The book that sat on top was completely non-descript; there was no title stamped into the leather cover, nothing on the spine . . . and he’d never noticed Zamasu reading unless it was an old text for the sake of learning. So then this must be . . .

Gowasu pulled out the chair and sat down, turning on the small desk lamp. “Surely it must be a journal of sorts.” Something that he shouldn’t read. He shouldn’t, but . . . why not? Zamasu was gone. He could not be embarrassed or upset about it. Whatever was in this book would not change anything, but perhaps it would shed some light on what triggered his change in personality. Perhaps . . . it would provide some sort of closure so Gowasu could move on.

He slid his hand over the cover at first before flipping it open to the first page. Sure enough, it was exactly as he thought – a journal. Zamasu’s handwriting was just as neat as he remembered and the page was filled from top to bottom. 

_-Today begins my journey as apprentice to the Supreme Kai of our universe. As such, I thought it appropriate to begin my journal anew, to record my day’s tasks and what I’ve learned, so that I may look back on it and reflect on my progression.-_

Those were the words of the Zamasu he knew quite well and had grown fond of. It was refreshing to see such words from his student. That fresh-faced Kai who was excited at his new journey. “You had such an air of innocence about you – such a desire to make the universe a better place. Who truly could have foreseen what happened?” 

Gowasu turned the page.

_-Master Gowasu has begun by teaching me the proper way to prepare tea. I’ve never had much of a taste for it myself, but the tea prepared today was particularly flavorful. He says learning to prepare it properly will teach me patience. Do I lack patience? Perhaps I do. Master Gowasu knows best, after all, so I will trust in his judgment.-_

Gowasu smiled, “You most certainly lacked patience, Zamasu. You wanted to become stronger and more knowledgeable so quickly that you didn’t stop to consider anything else.” His brows furrowed, “You didn’t consider _why_ things took time . . . you couldn’t see past your desire for instant gratification.” 

Again he turned the page, but this time skimmed through several of them to see much of the same. The various days of training on patience and simply learning the daily tasks of Supreme Kai. But . . . the further Gowasu read into the pages, the mood of the text began to change.

_-All of this injustice in the universe, and yet we are enjoying our peace in the realm of the gods? Should we not protect that which we created? Should we really allow the mortals to do as they please? I do not understand and Master Gowasu has yet to provide me with a sufficient explanation. Am I really to turn a blind eye to such things?-_

“You had no patience and no sense of forgiveness. If you had simply listened to my words and studied them and studied various civilizations as I had asked, perhaps you’d have understood. You were too interested in swift and instant justice.” Gowasu pursed his lips as he flipped a few more pages. He’d noticed that the handwriting had begun to change. It was sloppier, some words dipping below the lines on the paper. These pages were written hastily, likely in a fit of frustration.

_-Why can we not simply kill them? We should kill them. The mortals should not be allowed to carry on. I could kill them. I am stronger. I could kill them. I could.-_

He was impatient and he didn’t understand. He wanted to take the route that made the most sense in his mind. Why could he not accept that killing wasn’t something they did? That was the duty of the gods of destruction – not of the Supreme Kais. The Kais practiced compassion, forgiveness, understanding. They knew that the evil that existed amongst the mortals was powerfully outweighed by the good in them. But . . . to Zamasu, any shred of evil meant the entirety of mortal existence ought to be eradicated.

The next several pages were filled with the same line over and over again in an increasingly erratic handwriting.

_-The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die. The mortals should die.-_

Over and over and over again until one line stopped with a large spot of ink. He’d likely broken the tip of his pen and could not write the words any longer. Why? Why was his anger so intense that he felt the need to write such a thing repeatedly? Why was he obsessed with it? Was it because he did not understand? Was it because he did not have someone to properly vent these frustrations to?

“Zamasu . . . were you frustrated because it did not make sense to you? Because you were so accustomed to understanding everything? Was that it?” He wanted to ask him, but of course . . . he’d never get the chance.

Filled with significantly more uncertainty than when he’d begun, his heart racing a bit from the barrage of angry words on the page, Gowasu slowly turned the page once more. This time there was only a name written in the center, not following the guide of the lines on the page.

_-Son Goku.-_

“Son Goku . . . the mortal whose body you stole to run rampant in that already-distressed timeline.” How quickly had Zamasu devised such a plan? For how long did he mull it over? Did he hesitate even the slightest bit before killing his master? Or was it . . . was it simple? Even though they’d chatted idly so often? Even though they’d been care free? Even though Zamasu gave him the biggest smile when he’d asked him to be his apprentice?

Gowasu slowly turned the page, fully expecting the remainder of the journal to be blank.

. . . but it wasn’t.

There was one last page with text. This time it had returned to the neat and organized script in which the journal had begun.

_-To whomever should read this, if anyone ever should, you will not find me. I have taken the steps to do what needs to be done. To do what all other gods were too stuck in their routine to do. I could not simply wait and allow this opportunity to pass me by. I did what needed to be done. Even if you do not feel that my way is the right way. Even if no one in this cosmos should ever thank me . . . the cosmos themselves will thank me. I am doing this for the worlds created by the gods before me. No more will mortals desecrate them. No more will gods sit idly by._

_I did what must be done._

_I am sorry, master Gowasu. You did not understand what I understood. It is unfortunate it had to end this way.-_

“No, Zamasu. It was _you_ who did not understand.” The remaining pages were blank and Gowasu closed the journal, his hand resting over the cover as he stared down at it. “That is not your fault, though. You were brilliant. Your mind was the first I’ve ever seen quite like it of all the gods I’ve met in my time. But with that brilliance came a desire to understand everything around you. I could not give you an answer that was sufficient, so you sought a solution of your own . . . an ill-informed solution without even a shred of morality behind it.” Would his next pupil fall to a similar fate?

“If I had simply chosen someone else as my apprentice, would you still be alive right now? Would you still smile and laugh? Would you still see some good in the worlds and the mortals around us? Did . . . you _ever_ see any good in them?” He wanted to believe that the Zamasu he met as a King Kai was pure-hearted and full of faith. But surely those feelings of hatred toward mortals were not stirred up overnight.

Sighing heavily, Gowasu stood from the chair and instead sat in front of the small chest with his legs tucked up underneath him. It wasn’t locked – just a simple latch on the front, so Gowasu opened it with ease and peered inside.

“Oh . . . Zamasu . . . you kept it.” He felt a chill run the length of his spine as he reached inside and retrieved the only item within: Zamasu’s old King Kai of the North attire. That was what he wore when Gowasu first met him and when he’d asked him to become his apprentice.

_“M-me? You want me to become your apprentice? To become the successor to the Supreme Kai!?” Zamasu was taken aback at first, his eyes wide with disbelief._

_“Yes. I feel that you are the best fit out of everyone. It was honestly a very easy decision to make.” Gowasu offered him a kind smile, trying to calm the frazzled young god, “So? What do you say? Will you become my successor, King Kai of the North, Zamasu?”_

_There was a brief pause where Zamasu visibly relaxed, stood straight, and allowed for a large smile to stretch across his face, “Yes! I would be honored to call you my master! I cannot describe how thrilled I am for this opportunity! I want to learn the ways of the Supreme Kai and bring peace and prosperity to our universe! I want nothing more than to protect the beauty of our worlds!”_

The beauty of the worlds . . . peace and prosperity . . . “Even up until the very end, you did not see the evil in your methods. You truly believed, in the deepest depths of your heart, that what you were doing was righteous and just.” He held the robe close as he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as he remembered that kind smile on Zamasu’s face. What was it that corrupted such a kind heart? Was Zamasu really the one to blame for all of this? Gowasu pulled the robe away from his chest and instead ran his hand over the emblem on the front.

_“All of this is for the universe . . . for the world . . .”_

What an awful thing to remember . . . Zamasu, fused with himself, half of his body melting and falling apart . . . and he cried. All of that indiscriminate slaughtering of mortals, all of that destruction . . . and yet he cried like that. He cried because all he wanted was to save the worlds from mortals. He cried because he truly believed that what he was doing was right.

“Up until that moment, I thought you were completely lost. It was like I was watching someone other than the student I’d taught for so long. Like the Zamasu I knew was swallowed up by darkness. But . . . in that very moment, I saw him again.” Gowasu pursed his lips, his fingers curling around the fabric as he clutched it tightly, “You were there all along, weren’t you? You didn’t understand . . . because I could not properly teach you. I did not understand how you truly felt and I did not hear your words and your desires properly.” His voice wavered as tears slipped down his cheeks, dripping from his chin down onto the cloth. “Your erasure was my fault, Zamasu. Your downfall was my fault. You went astray because of my ineptitude as your teacher.”

That was it. He had failed Zamasu. The fault did not rest on Zamasu’s shoulders alone. He had listened to Zamasu’s hatred of mortal life and he’d done nothing at all to alleviate it. He told him to watch over the mortals, and all Zamasu saw was destruction, violence, madness. Of course Zamasu grew frustrated.

“Because of my failure, it ended in such a way. Your smiling face, your brilliant mind, your immense power . . . all of it has been erased because I failed you. We will never know what sort of Supreme Kai you would have become. Your future doesn’t exist anymore . . .” He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped at his eyes, “You may very well have been one of the most spectacular beings of our race . . . and I was unable to handle such a being. If only I could bring you back. Maybe bring you back from a time where you had not yet become my apprentice . . . so you could live out your days happily as you should have. Would it have been okay . . . if you had never come with me?”

Such thoughts were doing more harm than good. The understanding that he held a portion of the blame was painful, but it was something that he needed to grasp before he took the next apprentice under his wing.

Zamasu was right after all . . . it was Gowasu who had failed to understand. That was the failure that initiated this horrible sequence of events.

“I will not lose another student. I will not cause another brilliant life to be erased.”

Standing once more, Gowasu held the robe tightly and took the journal from the table. “Zamasu . . . I hope you don’t mind if I hold onto these. I suppose . . . I’ve gotten a bit sentimental in my old age.” He smiled a sad sort of smile, “You and that destroyed timeline have been erased . . .”

“. . . but I will never forget you.”


End file.
